


They are not the Walking Dead (A little Rickyl with a Vampire spin)

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Biting, Blood Drinking, Bloodplay, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Frottage, Grinding, Love Bites, M/M, Rickyl Writers' Group, Smut, Vampires, Walker virus mutation causes vampire-like urges
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-14 05:44:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5731576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If they aren't going to die and walk, then they will live and hunger for blood.  It's a mutation of the walker virus, although Rick and Daryl don't realize it right away.  They both try to hide these urges, but soon enough it becomes a thing they can't control and they go to one another for help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They are not the Walking Dead (A little Rickyl with a Vampire spin)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1lostone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/gifts).



> Happy early birthday to 1LostOne!! She once spoke of mutations to the walker virus that could cause any kinds of unique situations, so I mentioned Vampires and she seemed quite smitten with the idea. 
> 
> So voila- Rickyl with a vampire spin!
> 
> Warning- Unbeta'd because everyone is so busy writing! (which is a very good thing!!)

Daryl had the rabbit in his crosshairs and he was salivating. He'd eaten a deer jerky breakfast just three hours earlier but this wasn't normal hunger. This was the new hunger. The one he hasn't told anyone about. The one that makes his stomach growl like an angry momma bear protecting its young. The one that is nearly intolerable when he's gutting deer or rabbit or squirrel- the smell of blood now so intoxicating that he felt it in his own heartbeat, in the goosebumps on his skin and in the twitching of his cock. Now just the sight of the rabbit was bringing it on. He hadn't acted on it yet. Yet. But he felt like he was losing control of it. His body needed it. Demanded it. Warm blood. Life. 

He shot and the bolt went through the rabbit and pinned it to a tree. The scent of blood was heavy in the air and Daryl knew this was it. He couldn't stifle this craving any longer. He tried to remain still, calm. He focused on breathing and keeping his trembling hands stead for minutes, but in the end, he dropped his crossbow and ran to his kill, not even waiting to pull it off the tree before he sank his teeth into it groaning with pleasure at the taste of the metallic liquid that saturated his tongue, slid down his throat and coated his growling belly. He pulled the bolt out of the tree as he sucked the rabbit dry and when he'd gotten as much as he could, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. 

He focused on next steps. The prison was low on meat. He needed to feed everyone. He needed to get some more kills to bring back to camp. He needed to go back to camp. _Do not think about this again. Do not think about this again._ He repeated the last part in his mind over and over until the words were meaningless in his head. Just syllables repeating.

The rabbit worked. He was able to make a half-dozen more kills without the uncontrollable desire to feed on them. He stopped at the stream before he went back to the prison and washed the sticky blood from his mouth and his cheeks. From his nose. And by the time he was back at the prison, his fresh kills left with Carol for skinning, he could feel the hunger start again.

\-------------------------

Rick paced his cell. He thought again about talking to Hershel. But he had it under control. It’s been a thing for weeks now. A thing he’s noticed getting stronger and stronger. But he still had control. He felt certain of it. Then he smelled it in the air. Blood. He could quite literally smell the warmth of it. He could imagine the feel of it thick on his tongue, the taste as he drank it down greedily. He walked out of his cell with purpose, following his senses. 

Daryl was standing there with nearly a dozen dead animals tied to his rope. Rick swallowed hard. He looked around and saw nearly everyone sitting around talking or working. Glenn. Maggie. Bob. Michonne. Carol. Carl. His stomach bellowed out for attention. Daryl flung the kills to Carol and walked past Rick with just the quickest glance. Just a millisecond of eye contact. Rick knew him. And he saw worry and confusion. He saw what Rick himself felt. So he used every bit of willpower he had and walked away from the rabbits and squirrels. Their blood was cooling anyway. To be honest, Rick wasn’t certain that he’d have been able to leave them if the animals were still warm.

Instead, he followed Daryl down the catwalk to the cell he kept far off from the others. The hunter walked in first, well aware that Rick was on his heels. When he entered the cell he just turned to Rick and waited. 

“You feeling ok, Daryl?”

Daryl nodded but he knew Rick could read him. Knew he’d know better.

“You’re not. Tell me. What’s wrong.”

Daryl shook his head. He couldn’t find words. He wanted to confide in someone. Needed to. He was going to need someone to help him. He was terrified the urges would make him lose control in front of the others and he didn’t want to scare anyone. 

Rick walked closer and reached an arm behind Daryl, tugged his red shop rag out of his back pocket and spit on it. He rubbed at Daryl’s chin and the hunter let him. 

They just kept hold of one another’s gaze, wordless but full of confession. And Daryl knew. Not just that Rick knew but that he, too, had the same uncontrollable craving. He was becoming whatever Daryl was becoming. He could see the hunger in the leader’s eyes. 

“What was it?” Rick asked.

“Rabbit.”

“Still alive?” 

“No. Just put an arrow through it though. Still warm. Fresh.”

Rick stopped rubbing at Daryl’s chin. “Can I taste it?”

Daryl nodded, nearly imperceptible, but Rick knows him and sees his consent. The leader took two fingers and tilted Daryl’s head up. He leaned in and licked at a sticky spot on his chin, cleaning him like a cat cleans it’s kittens. 

“It’s better warm,” Daryl says as Rick steps away. 

The taste of the stale blood from Daryl’s chin only made Rick more thirsty for it. “I need some, Daryl. I can’t fight it anymore. Been fighting it for weeks and I… I can’t. I can’t hunt like you. Help me.” The leader’s voice was small and desperate. 

Daryl picked his crossbow back up off the floor and walked out ahead of Rick, who followed him like a puppy. 

Once outside the gates, they were both uber-focused on prey. Both sets of eyes darting to movements in the leaves and sounds from every gentle breeze. The chatter of a squirrel made both their heads turn at the same moment, at the same speed and both of their gazes instantly saw it skittering up a tree. 

Daryl raised his bow, aimed and shot in one fluid motion, the squirrel pinned to the tree by a hind leg and still moving. Rick ran to it, pulled it off and bit into it, sucking the life out of it, focused on nothing more than the taste as he devoured gulp after gulp. Daryl walked up next him, leaned his forehead to Rick’s and bit into the opposite side of the squirrel. He wanted so badly to let Rick have it. He hasn’t had anything yet, but Daryl couldn’t. He needed it and Rick didn’t fight him for it. They shared like they would share this secret. 

When the squirrel was bloodless, they dropped it and both of them looked back at each other fully-sated, their mouths still dripping with blood. They again consented with eye contact as they stepped closer and gently kissed at one another’s lips, sucking off the blood that surrounded their mouths. When the blood was gone they didn’t stop, they kissed deeper and more aggressively. Teeth biting lips and tongues taking what they wanted. Hands on hips. In hair. Pelvis against Pelvis. Rick backed Daryl up to the tree and then they heard the tell-tale groan and the shuffle of feet in the grass. They pulled apart and Rick shot a stray walker between the eyes before Daryl could whip his crossbow around. 

“We better go back. The gunshot could draw more,” Rick said.

They walked back in silence. Heads both spinning with words, but none coming out. 

 

Finally Rick cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to… be more surprised at. That we just drained the blood out of a squirrel or that we just made out like teenagers.” 

Daryl didn’t respond. He wasn’t good with words under the _best_ of circumstances. 

“Actually,” Rick continued. “Both been comin’. Both cravings.” He didn’t look up. Just watched his feet in front of him. Keeping his ears open to any disturbances around them.

“Yeah.” Daryl answered. 

\---------------------------------

That night it came again. Heavy and fast and sudden. The need. The urgency. The hunger. Daryl paced his cell. It had to be after midnight. It was too dangerous to go hunting at this hour. They were fucked. Fucked. If they were going to need to feed this often, they were going to lose their minds trying to control it. Or die chasing the hunger. They’d have to tell Hershel. Maybe it was a mutation of the virus that caused the whole walker shit. Maybe if they refused to die and walk, they’d have to live and hunger for it anyway. 

Daryl held onto the bars of his prison door. He’d have to get the others to fucking lock him in before long because he was already seriously considering going out in the dangers of pitch black midnight to get more. He tried to remember the sensations of it. Hoping maybe the memories would taste a little bit sweet. And as he thought about the rabbit and then the squirrel, he took note that the second held him over longer. Staved off the craving. Was it because the blood was fresher? Because it was still pulsing when Daryl first bit into it?

That gave him an idea and he flung open his cell door and charged towards Rick’s cell. 

When he arrived, Rick was already up and pacing. He looked up at Daryl. 

 

“Come,” Daryl said and Rick followed him without question back to the privacy of the hunter’s quiet section of the prison. Free from the sounds of snores. Free from the ears of those not asleep.

“I’m freaking out, Daryl,” Rick whispered as soon as they walked in and dropped the privacy curtain. “I need more. We can’t… we can’t live like this. It’s too dark to hunt and I don’t know if I can make it til morning. I-”

“Take it from me,” Daryl said and tilted his head, offering his stretched neck to Rick. “I think it’s better if it’s still pumping. You take a little from me and I’ll take a little from you.”

Rick nodded and walked towards Daryl. “Just with my teeth or…” 

“Whatever you gotta do, man. But hurry up, cause I’m dying here, too.”

Rick didn’t hesitate after that. He opened his jaws like a lion and clamped down without any further thought. Daryl grunted a bit at the stab of pain but kept his stance. Stood tall, head tilted. Rick sucked greedily at Daryl as he hugged the hunter tighter. 

“It’s good?” Daryl asked, drooling a bit as he waited his turn.

Rick nodded. Minutes went by and Rick showed no signs of stopping on his own. 

“Rick, man. You gotta stop. I need some,” Daryl whispered. Rick pulled off. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out in a sigh. “Yes. Sorry. It’s better. Better than the squirrel. You’ll like it I think.”

Rick pulled his shirt off and held it to the wound by Daryl’s throat and offered his own throat in return. Daryl didn’t hesitate like Rick did. He lunged and bit and sucked all in one motion, Rick whimpering the whole time. It was a needy whimper. A “more” whimper. The soft sound of desperation. He let Daryl drink until the leader grew dizzy. 

“Need to stop,” Rick whispered. Daryl unlatched from Rick’s neck after one last long suck. He took Rick’s hand that was still holding his shirt to Daryl’s wound and moved it to Rick’s neck, then pushed against the leader until he fell into Daryl’s bed, lips crashing into one another like the instinctive pull of predator to prey. 

And they kissed, bound at first by a friendship that had already been evolving into love, and now bound stronger by their mutual needs, by the feeding of one to the other. The taste of blood on their tongues as they kissed made them even more excited. Made them hard. Their kisses turned to bites, playful and innocent, erotic reminders of their bloodlust. 

Rick wiggled out of his pants. “Need more than just your blood, Daryl. I need everythang.”

Daryl nodded, unzipping his own tattered jeans. “Yeah.”

Rick pulled Daryl’s shirt over his head and both were naked in the deep pale blueness as night slid in from cracks in the prison walls. Daryl grabbed Rick, both hands gentle against the nape of his neck and pulled him back to kisses. Overdue, hungry, desperate kisses that spoke of wasted time, the slow build of desire and a new boldness that boiled over like an unattended pot of water. 

Their bodies writhed against one another, bathed by the sound of stray moans and smacking lips and throaty growls. Daryl pressed into Rick as his body rocked into his lover’s, no hesitation, no insecurity, no question. 

There was no time for anything. No time for gentle caresses. No time for words to make sense of what was happening. No time to figure out the dynamics of what they might be able to do to one another. There was just friction and need and urgency. Bodies grinding, sweat dripping, teeth and tongues and lips trapped in a struggle for dominance. Daryl nipped at Rick’s bottom lip as the leader matched his movements, rutting against each other, both their cocks ready to burst in unison. Daryl snarled and he felt everything inside him rush south, pooling like electricity before a bolt of lighting forms. He bit aggressively on Rick’s bottom lip tasting the teasing droplets of blood on his tongue before he came long, slow and hard, shuddering in aftershocks. Rick groaned and pulled his lip away clinking teeth as he lunged back to Daryl with a bite to the hunter’s lip, a bite more definitive than Daryl’s and Rick sucked greedily as he rocked up against Daryl, the hunter already spent and sticky between them. He chased the friction, blood pooling warm around his tongue from Daryl’s lip and his thrusts turned into a shuddering, explosive orgasm. Rick moaned out as he rocked against Daryl, milking out every last drop of himself against the hunters already sticky thigh.

They laid together. Panting. Licking at bleeding lips. Running fingers through the come that was rubbed into their bellies. Daryl leaned down first to lick Rick clean and then the leader reciprocated. The come had the same satisfaction as the warm blood. It was life. Warm. Human. 

“I think you should sleep here. In case we wake up hungry,” Daryl said. 

Rick turned to him. “I feel good.”

Daryl nodded. “Me too. Ain’t afraid no more if you’re with me. Still don’t understand it. But…”

“For the record, Daryl. I been thinking about kissing you way before I was thinking about blood.”

The hunter smiled his half-grin. “Well, I would have fought that shit tooth and nail. Woulda wasted a shitload a’ time doin’ it too, cause in the end, I’ve known you were mine since day one.”

Rick smiled and cuddled up to the hunter, his head on his chest and an arm lazy around his lover’s stomach. They’d always belonged to each other. But now more than ever, they were one. 

And they fell asleep sated, not knowing yet that it was indeed a mutation of the walker virus. A strain that that would only affect males, only the strongest. They didn’t yet know that others would become affected and would pair off the same way to survive. 

They would continue with the same craving for life that the walkers had, but they didn’t need to kill. They didn’t need the flesh. They just needed the life force from one another- the blood, the sex. They would wake hungry at night. But they would have one another to feed on. And this would become their routine. Their every day and night. They couldn’t live without the taking of life from one another. Blood and sex. They weren’t the walking dead. The virus was in them, but it hadn't taken them yet. They continued to beat it, to live as one, bodies giving and taking and heart’s beating with each other’s blood, fighting off death with life.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like there should be more Rickyl Vampire fics. Is it just me?
> 
> Hope this didn't suck. (hahah..... get it? Suck? Vampires? It's a really bad pun. I should've stopped while I was ahead)


End file.
